Your Biggest Mistake
by nowirealise
Summary: Ten years ago I vowed to never be the victim again."
1. Prologue

**PROLOGUE. **SO MUCH FOR MY HAPPY ENDING

June 3rd 2012

"Mitchie you've got to see this." For half second I actually thought she was about to show me something important. The urgency in her voice made it sound like somebody had been shot. Then I saw the headline, **'Shane Gray quits music'**. I was tempted to just roll my eyes and walk away but Emma looked close to tears.

So I stayed.

I sat down next to her, scanned the article to take in the basic facts. Connect Three had officially split two years ago. Nate Porter, the bastard, had gone off and had a solo career. The other one, Jacob or Jason or something, had gotten married and disappeared off the face of the Earth. Shane had gotten into drugs, gone to rehab, gotten married, released a terrible solo album, cheated on his wife, gotten divorced, and collapsed on stage.

Most people had given up on his releasing anything decent after the first album. Most fan girls had given up after he'd collapsed. There had still been a few, Emma included, who thought he'd release a second album. Emma was possibly the only person, in the world, who loved every track on the first album. For the first few weeks of us sharing a room she had insisted on playing the damn thing on loop every evening.

She still doesn't know who stole it.

Emma's sobs brought me out of my thoughts. I've never been able to watch anyone cry. Normally I'd just walk away, let her deal with it. With Emma I had to share a room with her, so I played the sympathetic friend, telling her how terrible it was and how he'd probably end up doing acting or something.

"You really believe that?" Emma asked, wiping her eyes, looking up at me with hope. It was pathetic really, a twenty year old woman acting like an eight year old girl over Shane Gray. Shane Gray, a manipulative liar who can't sing for the life of him. That's a lie. He can sing. He can sing extremely well. He's still a manipulative liar.

I felt Emma looking at me, waiting for my answer.

"Yeah," I told her, hoping to seem plausible. "I think he'll do something else." Which, to be honest I did think, I just hoped it wouldn't happen.

January 2nd 2016

Chelsea doesn't believe me. I don't blame her. I never wanted to tell her but it'd had just come out. So now I'm looking through a box I've never been able to throw out but have always wanted to, trying to find a good enough picture of us. Good enough proof.

Yesterday, New Year's Day, early morning. We'd just gotten back to the apartment we share after Emma's disaster of a New Year's party. She'd invited all her soppy girl friends from Texas or wherever the hell she's from. They'd all sat around being incredibly cliquey, talking about High School and Connect Three and the, oh so wonderful, Shane Gray.

We'd talked about him as we'd walked home, me and Chelsea. Laughing about the terrible job he'd done commenting on the London 2012 Olympics. That had been just before he'd disappeared. He hadn't been to a celebrity event in three years. I used to think he lived on those things.

As we'd talked I'd started to think about him, just the thought was bringing up memories I'd been squashing for eight years. I'd started to get this feeling that I wanted to say something, tell Chelsea about that summer. I'd almost managed to get rid of the feeling when she comes out with, "I wonder what happened that time he went back to Camp Rock?" and before I could stop myself I was speaking,

"He met me."

April 12th 2017

I've always hated waiting for interviews. Sitting there doubting yourself, with the horrible sinking feeling that comes the moment you think of the interview that's about to happen. This waiting is worse than for most interviews. I need this job. Desperately need it. I'm running out of money fast and I can't find anyone to share an apartment with.

That's mostly my fault. I can't stand most people. I wanted to kill Emma, my room mate in college, after two weeks. The only person I've ever been able to stand living with is Chelsea but as she's off at Med-School in Northern California and I'm stuck in Los Angeles, the last place I ever thought I'd end up, that option is out of the question.

"What ya listening to?" asks the overly perky girl sitting next to me. When I stare at her blankly she gestures towards the IPod, sitting in my lap, music had been abandoned to worrying a long time ago.

"Beyoncé." I muttered, picking a random singer, I couldn't be bothered to actually remember who I had been listening to. I throw a faked smile in her direction and return the question, "How about you?"

"Connect Three." Her enthusiasm is sickening. How old is she? Twelve? She looks about my age but she can't be. No twenty-five year old would still be listening to them. Her face falls as I scowl at the name.

"Not a fan then?" She asks, still irritatingly perky. If I punched her would I still be able to get this job? Probably not.

"You could say that."

She looks like she's going to say something else. For her sake I hope she doesn't. People like her remind me of the way I used to be, so happy and enthusiastic. She'll learn that there's nothing to be happy about. Especially here, in Los Angeles. Here you're either a fighter or victim. Ten years ago I vowed to never be the victim again. It was a good descision. I'm going to have to fight for this job.

"Michelle Torres?"

Show time.

June 4th 2017

She's got to pick up. I don't think I'll be here tomorrow if she doesn't. I can't do this without her. She's always been my rock, the person I'll turn to when everything's messed up.

"Mitchie?"

I can't do this. I can't tell her. Not without crying. I don't want to cry. That'll make me the victim.

"Mitchie what's wrong?"

I don't want to be the victim.

"I told him."

"and?" I can hear the concern in her voice. She knows something's wrong. She always knows.

"He's gone."

I can hear her on the other end. Telling me that it'll be ok. Telling me he's an idiot. Telling me he'll regret this. I can hear her but I'm not listening. This is reminding me of the last time I felt like this. Reminding me of him.

That's when the tears fall.


	2. When You See My Face

**CHAPTER ONE. **WHEN YOU SEE MY FACE

September 3rd 2019

"Rumour has it that ex-pop star, Shane Grey, has brought an apartment in Los Angeles. Does this mean he'll be returning to music after a seven year hiatus? We sure hope so. In other news Sonny Monroe and―"

Silence.

Whilst Jamie was in the car I had to have the radio on. He didn't like silence. If there was no noise he would cry, constantly, until somebody talked to him or put the radio on. I'm not a big fan of talking, especially not in the early morning so the radio would have to do.

Except now Jamie is at Nursery so I can finally be alone in my thoughts. The drive to work is good for thinking, for planning how I am going to deal with the new class of Freshmen who will all be thinking that they are so damn special. Today however, there is one problem.

"I was listening to that!"

"My car, my rules." I didn't even need to look at her to know Chelsea's exact facial expression. We've been friends since college. Originally it was due to our mutual hatred for Connect Three, Hannah Montana and McKenzie Falls, a hatred not shared by the majority of our female peers. We even lived together during our last year of college before I moved to Los Angeles and she stayed to attend Med-School. Then when she moved down here recently she moved into the spare room in my apartment.

"You're being unfair." I ignored her as she whined at me, putting on the voice of a seven year old. I could feel her smiling at me, enjoying my steadily growing irritation. "Mitchieeeeeee" She whined, elongating my name in the way she knows I hate.

"You already know the rubbish they dare to call news." I snapped at her, "Hannah Montana, or Miley Stewart, as I believe she prefers to be called now, and Jake Ryan have split up. Again. Nate Porter is releasing a new album. Fan girls everywhere are delighted. Sonny Monroe and Chad Dylan Cooper are getting married―"

"You look so much like Sonny Monroe." Chelsea mused, cutting me off mid rant. She obviously hadn't been listening, not that I really expected her to. She didn't listen to my rants and I didn't listen whilst she was describing some guy she'd seen on the street who was "utterly gorgeous". Her words, not mine. That was the way our friendship worked.

"Good for me."

She turned the radio on anyway. I couldn't be bothered to argue again so I tuned out the mindless babble of the host. I kept my eyes on the road, trying to work how many days it was until Chelsea's car would be fixed. Chelsea may be my best friend but that doesn't mean she isn't highly irritating. Though as nearly all people irritate me that's unsurprising. The only person I don't find highly irritating is Jamie, and he's my son.

Thankfully I pulled into the Car Park of Chelsea's hospital only a few minutes later. Chelsea grabbed her rucksack off the back seat and got out the car, slamming the door behind. I was about to go, when, as an afterthought, she pulled open the side door again. I turned to look at her, giving her my "what now" look.

"I'm going to get the bus back."

There's a bus?

"Why couldn't you have gotten a bus this morning?"

She grinned at me, shrugging her shoulders. "This felt like it'd be more fun." She pretended to think for a moment before adding, "It was," as she slammed the car door.

I scowl at her as she walked away before I backed out of the parking space, and started driving towards my own work. It took me a few minutes to remember that the radio was still on, and that I could actually turn it off this time. I flicked the switch, smiling softly to myself as a welcome silence filled the car.

At last.

--------

By Lunch I was ready to kill someone. Every year on the first day of term I wonder why on Earth I've become a Math teacher. This year was no different. None of the kids in any of my classes had wanted to learn, nobody had listened to me, most just spent the whole lesson talking about the summer. I ended up snapping later than usual, which had to be a good sign. I ended up shouting at my third class of the day rather than my second.

"I heard you held onto your annual rant for an unusually long time this year."

I rolled my eyes, laughing slightly as I felt David slide onto the couch next to me. "Proud of me?" I joked, smiling at him. He glanced at me, a large grin printed firmly on his face.

"I'd be more proud if you got me coffee. That would be real progress."

"Get your own damn coffee."

He sniffed, feigning hurt as he pushed himself off the battered, old couch and made his way over to the equally battered and old coffee machine which lived in the corner of the Staff Room. I watched him as he went. David is an Drama teacher, which is strange considering he's the least dramatic person I know. We arrived at the same time after the teachers we replaced eloped together. Or something. I didn't really pay attention to the school gossip back then. I still don't.

"Earth to Mitchie,"

I came out of my thoughts as Julia sat down in the armchair opposite. She placed two cups of coffee onto the small table between us, gesturing at one of them to let me it was for me. I smiled at her in thanks. She smiled back, leaning back in the chair as she picked up her own drink. Julia, or Jules as she prefers to be called, is an English teacher. She's good with words and loves drama, whether in her own life or someone elses. Apparently she's a good actress too, though I wouldn't know, I've never seen her act. She's invited me to performances before but I've always found some excuse. Going to see Jules perform would be a sign of friendship, I don't really do friendships. Not since that summer.

"How was your summer?"

I shrugged. "About as good as getting kicked of Disneyland can ever be." The look on Jules' face was priceless. She didn't ask but I knew she was desperate to know why, Jules practically lives on gossip. She says it's because her life is so boring so she lives off other people's drama. "I punched a security guard." I tell her in explanation. I heard David chuckling as he sat back down next to me, mouthing 'Typical Mitchie' at Jules who giggled in response. I scowled at him as he set his own mug down on the table.

"Where is everybody?" Jules asked suddenly, glancing around the practically empty room. I looked around myself, it being lunch the place was usually packed but today there was just the three of us, and Mr Francis, the thousand year old History teacher. "Probably looking for the new music teacher, apparently they're some celebrity," David thought about it for a moment then added, "I hope it's Miley Stewart." Simultaneously Jules and I rolled our eyes. David's little Miley Stewart obsession was well known. Jules thought it was adorable. I thought it was pathetic.

"This is the Staff Room." I resisted the urge to turn around as I heard the School Principal speak from the doorway. I personally was more interested in what expression Jules was going to make than who this celebrity, who was probably some washed up boy-bander from the noughties, was. Her expression was worth it. Complete and utter shock. I bit my lip, trying not to laugh at her. Even if I didn't care who this 'celebrity' was, I am professional, I didn't want to make a bad first impression.

The Principal was introducing us, he waved over to old Mr Francis, making some comment about 'near retirement' and 'good duty to the school'. David was introduced next, followed by Jules. The celebrity must have smiled at her because after her introduction she sort of squeaked, went bright red and then, realising both David and me were trying to suppress our laughter, grabbed a magazine from the table and hit behind it.

"and this is Michelle Torres, one of our Math teachers."

"Oh, I know Mitchie."

---

**AN:** Thank you to **Tangina Jonas**, your review really made my day. I'm glad you liked the prologue.


	3. She Walks Away

**CHAPTER TWO. **SHE WALKS AWAY

Time seemed to slow down. I picked up every little detail. Jules' facial expression, which in any of situation would have been hilarious, David's shocked intake of breath, I could almost feel the Principal's amused expression, he was probably loving this, sad old git.

Jules brought me back to reality, mouthing 'you know him?' at me with movements so exaggerated she must have practised them. I glared at her, hoping that she wouldn't say anything until I could think of something intelligent to say, or run away. To be honest the latter option seemed much preferable.

But that would be the coward's way out. Coward's let themselves be victims. I will never be a victim. Never again. Never. His. Victim.

"Hi Shane," I turned my head, smiling up at him with a fake smile I have spent years perfecting. He smiles back at me with the same smile. I know it's the same smile because it's a smile I learnt from him. Back when I idolised him. Back when I thought he was perfect. I soon learnt that nobody's perfect, least of all Shane Grey.

"Well I think this concludes our tour. Maybe you'd like to stay here? Talk to your new colleagues?"

_Say no._

"That would be fantastic."

_Damn you._

He pulled up a chair, sinking easily into it joining the group with supreme confidence that can only come from being a complete and utter git. Jules looked like she was about to explode with happiness.

_Kill me now._

"I didn't know you knew Mitchie." Jules simmered in a ridiculous voice I've never heard her use before. I glance at David who was looking at me with an expression of amusement, his face fell as he noticed my expression. I inwardly groaned, obviously I wasn't doing a good enough job of keeping my expression neutral.

"We met at Camp Rock, the year I was an Instructor there." Shane explained to Jules who fixed me with a 'WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME THIS!?' look. I shrugged at her, as if it hadn't occured to me that she'd want to know, deciding that it was probably a good time to go.

"Well it was nice seeing you again Shane," I lied, pushing myself up off the couch. I then glanced, first at David, then at Jules as I told them, "I've got some stuff to sort out for next period." Neither of them bothered to argue, or remind me that I had only just arrived. Jules because she was too busy staring at Shane and David because I think he had worked out that the situation freaked me out a little, even if he doesn't know why. Good thing about David, I know he's not going to ask. Jules is going to ask. She's going to ask a million and one questions making me want to kill her. Which is sad because there are only two people in this dump that I can actually stand.

I call Chelsea the moment I'm out of the room. Walking along the corridor, phone clamped to my ear, praying that she's on her lunch break. I'd nearly given up home when she finally picks up.

"Hello?"

"Thank god Chels. I was beginning to worry."

"Why are you calling? You better not be still pissed at the bus thing because honestly Mitch, it was just a joke. You know what a joke is right? Haha? Funny? That's a joke. Please tell me you still have a sense of humour in that shell you call a body―"

"He's back." I cut her off. The rant Chelsea was beginning sounded suspiciously like a rant I would do and my rants can last as long as five minutes. I didn't have five minutes.

"Who's he?" I can almost imagine Chelsea, standing in the Hospital, hiding in an alcove so nobody would realise she was talking to a friend. Her mind going at a frantic speed, trying to work out which 'he' I was talking about.

"Shane Gray."

The shocked gasp is nothing less than I'd expect from her. Chelsea loves drama, her own drama, my drama, drama of the other hospital workers who she barely knows. There's a long pause as she tries to work out what my plan should be.

"Ok. Umm...Don't panic."

Helpful.

"I'm already panicking Chels."

She sighs down the line, sound exasperated at me. As if I'm over reacting or something.

"Well don't panic anymore. Look Mitch I've got to get back to work, just stay calm. Kay?"

"Fine."

"Good, it'll all be fine."

Sure it will. I don't say anything other than, 'see you later Chels', as I end the call. Not believing a word of her encouraging messages. I would have to stay calm though, I can't let him see the effect he's had on me. I'm not some silly little teenager anymore.

"Who was that?"

I turn suddenly, startled at his voice coming from behind me. He's standing there, arms folded, a smug look spread across his face. I try to pretend that the fact he heard any of my conversation isn't bothering me.

"How much of that did you hear?" I ask, trying to act calm, in control, like he's not bothering me.

"Just the end." He shrugs, as if he doesn't know I've just been talking about him. "What are you panicking about?" He puts on a look of concern that I've seen so many times before, I know it's fake. He's only using it to try and get information out of me.

"My son, he's sick." I tell him, choosing the first lie that comes into my head. Fortunately it's a sensible lie, nothing stupid that he wouldn't even consider as truth for a second.

"You have a son?" I smile slightly, loving his reaction to this new piece of information. A panicked look has replaced the smug one, he's unfolded his arms instead he's stuck his hands into the pocket's of his jeans, a tell tale sign that there's something upsetting him. He's so obviously worrying, I could laugh. He can't possibly think it's his kid? I haven't seen him in nearly ten years.

"He's two." I tell him once his panic begins to bore me. Shane just nods at the new information, trying to act as if his previous panic hadn't happened. I smirk. How he thinks I didn't notice that I will never know.

He doesn't say anything to that. Just stands and stares. Watching me, it's slightly odd. I can't tell what's he's looking for. I can with most people, most people are easy to read, I've realised that over the past ten years. Shane Gray's always been good at hiding his true intent, if there was going to be one person I can't read. It'd be him.

The bell rings and it's the first time I've ever been thankful for it, even though I haven't eaten yet and I have the class from hell this period. I throw a fake smile in his direction, mutter "Well, I've got to get back to work," as I walk past him and begin my countdown until the end of the day.


	4. Because Of You I'm Ashamed Of My Life

**CHAPTER THREE. **BECAUSE OF YOU I'M ASHAMED OF MY LIFE

September 9th 2019

We seem to have settled into a routine this week. She talks, I don't listen and in the end we end up shouting at each other. Chelsea's stressed because she doesn't deal well with stress, yet somehow she's found her way into a high stress job. Clever. I'm stressed because my least favourite person in the world has decided to turn up at my work.

By Sunday night we're both pissed off at each other, not talking because one of us will bring up something that will lead to an argument. She keeps pushing the idea that maybe I should give him a chance. That's another reason why we've stayed friends, Chelsea's persistent.

"You know he could have changed." I look up, Chelsea's poking her head round the door way, smiling at me like she knows better than I do. I throw a pillow in her direction, an attempt to get her to shut up, or go away, or both.

Chelsea dodged the flying object with ease, laughing at me.

"You're being childish."

_Good for me._

"Ignoring the problem isn't going to work."

_Go away._

"Mitchie I'm not going until you've decided to actually do something."

Sometimes I feel like Chelsea can read my mind. I ignore her anyway, rolling over and burying my face into my pillow, hoping that she'll give up.

She does, eventually. She leaves with a sigh, muttering "You're being an idiot" as she walks quietly, so as not to wake Josh, down the hall. I roll over again, staring up at the ceiling, just thinking. I haven't just thought in a long time, definitely not since Josh. It's relaxing, in small doses. Though right now, with Chelsea's words replaying in my head it's definitely not my idea of relaxing.

'He could have changed'

'He could have changed'

'He could have changed'

I groan, squeezing my eyes shut trying to ignore it, trying to fall asleep.

Sleep doesn't come easily.

--------

The morning goes too quickly, a mindless blur filled with too much coffee and far too many irritating pupils. In a way I guess I envy them, the high school kids with their pathetic little problems who don't have to worry about paying bills and looking after a baby. I wish I was their age again, mostly so I could do it all again. Differently.

Jules drags me into the Staff Room, I was avoiding the place all last week but apparently one of the science teaching hags has brought in cake and Jules can't let me miss this. Or something.

I let her, mostly because of the cake but also partly because of my conversation with Chelsea last night. Not that it was much of a conversation. More like being talked at.

I start regretting my decision when Jules pushes me into the armchair opposite Shane and sits down next to him. Shane's smiling at me with a 'I know something you don't' smile that he shares with Chelsea.

Jules just sits there, looking from Shane to me and back again like an over excited puppy. David comes over to us, struggling with four cups of coffee. Lunchtime coffee has been a tradition with the three of us, I can't even remember who started it. I glance at the fourth cup of coffee, not to happy that Shane is becoming a part of the tradition.

David throws me a small, reassuring smile before nodding at Shane who takes two of the cups off him. I get the feeling that David isn't convinced by Shane's act, whatever it may be.

"It's Shane's birthday on Saturday!" Jules suddenly squeaks, her obvious excitement at the thought was already irritating me. I looked at her, trying to look disinterested but wondering this conversation was going.

Shane nods, as if he needs to verify this comment. Which is ridiculous, everyone knows his birthday is September 14th, no matter how much I wish I didn't. "Yeah, I was wondering if you three would be interested in coming out for a meal with a few friends of mine?" David shrugs, showing obvious disinterest in spending any more time with Shane than he has to. Shane isn't looking at David, he's not really interested in spending time with David either. He's looking straight at me.

I try to think of a good reply. I want to say no, tell him I'd rather spend time with Mr Harris, the bald, sweaty, overweight, creepy guy who teaches Gym. Tell him that's there nothing he can do to make me want to spend time with him and his 'friends'. His friends, probably a bunch of alcoholic, previously famous losers nobody cares about anymore.

I glance at David, who's watching me with interested. I mentally groan, I've obviously spent far too long thinking up an answer. Stupid Mitchie. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

I've got to come up with an answer now, I've just got to think of something. I can't think of anything though, my mind's drawing a blank, no words are coming so I just use the first words that come out of my mouth, hoping that they're words I want to use.

"Sure, sounds good."

Jules squeals excitedly, then starts blabbering on about what she's going to wear and whether she can bring her boyfriend. She's starting to remind me of Emma, my college room mate and one of the most irritating people I've ever had the misfortune to spend time with.

David mutters that he'll be coming along, glancing in my direction as he speaks. I fake a smile even though I know he can see threw them. He's one of the few people who can.

I make my excuses, leaving the room with the same hurried walk that I used last Monday. I seriously thought today would go better, I was wrong. I didn't even get that promised cake.

* * *

**AN: **Thank you to both **Tangina Jonas **and **xxannaforever21xx **for your reviews. I hope you both like Chapter Three as much as the other chapters. Reviews are always appreciated I'd love to know what people think of this story.


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